Page 43 of Unwritten Rules

Inhaling deeply, I blow it out and grab my phone to shoot a text to Roland to let him know that I’m ready to go home.

“Seems like I missed the party.”

My head shoots up at scandalous speed at the sound of Nate’s inimitable voice.

There he is, the object of my affection, in all his glory. His mere presence sucks the air out of the entire bar, leaving me short of breath, my chest rising and falling at speed under his dark gaze.

He’s dressed casually in another one of those too-sexy chunky knit cardigans in deep red worn over black jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

Simply put, he’s God’s gift to womankind, and my mouth waters slightly before I catch myself, not wanting to give him an inch, even in my inebriated state.

“It wasn’t a party, Professor. Just some friends blowing off steam after a long ass week.”

He nods slowly, shrugging off his cardigan to reveal it’s not, in fact, a t-shirt underneath but a tight-ribbed vest displaying his ripped biceps to perfection before stepping further into the space.

“You want to play?”

I narrow my eyes. “I’ve not seen you since Tuesday. Not a word since you left. And you want to play pool?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been busy, littlest DeMarco. Adulting means dealing with your responsibilities, whether you want to or not.”

Ignoring his dig, I hand him a pool cue. “What’s the winner get?”

Some unreadable emotion plays across his handsome face as he takes the cue. Then, shrugging, he offers, “Fifty quid?”

“Fifty quid?” I raise my eyebrows in incredulity. “That’s a bit of a shit prize, don’t you think?”

One side of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “Winners’ choice?”

“Done. But don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

His eyes twinkle, and I can’t stop my lip from tipping upward slightly.

Okay, so maybe this is a battle I want to win…

“You’re on, Hell… I mean, littlest DeMarco.”

I smirk. “You can break if you like.”

His brow furrows slightly as though he hasn’t quite figured out why I’m being so nice to him. But he’ll soon twig it. He never catches on to my little traps until it’s too late to extricate himself, and I love so much to watch him squirm.

“Ladies first.”

As I’d known.

And that’s how the West was won. The poor man didn’t stand a chance, as unbeknownst to him, I’d become somewhat of a pool shark during our ten months apart whilst I’d tried to fill the void he’d left in my days.

I break, potting each ball with ease, one after the other, much to Nate’s bemusement.

“Eight-ball left corner.”

I stretch across the table, lining my cue up perfectly, and I can feel his eyes burning holes into my skin. At the last second, I glance up to meet his gaze, potting the eight-ball with ease.

He drops his cue to the table, his intense eyes fixed on me as the bartender calls out, “Last orders.”

“And what do you get for winning, littlest DeMarco?”

I drop my cue alongside his, then slide my ass onto the pool table, holding his gaze without faltering.